


Primitive

by eyemeohmy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cannibalism, Fanon, Gen, Headcanon, Squick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rung looks into the sparkeater's last known memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primitive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dirge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirge/gifts).



> Oldfic; cleaned and edited a bit. 
> 
> Headcanon is headcanon is headcanon aka just playing around with ideas I had.

There were many accusations (usually from the ignorant) that sparkeaters were mindless beasts with hardly any sense of morality, driven by mere hunger and survival alone. That there was nothing in way of intelligence in the creature beyond the ability to hunt and gather. Scientists theorized otherwise, believing sparkeaters were much like their own people--Cybertronians that went rogue and evolved in a way that saw to their survival.

"We're no more better than they are, in a way," Perceptor once said, "considering how long we have been in a war that has spanned vorns, and has seemed to lost any sight or reasoning beyond destruction, power, and personal vendettas."

Not many sparkeaters were accounted for throughout scientific history. Yet, there was an undeniable truth: they were Cybertronian in origin. Rather they "devolved", infected by a virus, or were simply of a different design, no one was quite sure, as no sparkeater had been captured alive. And those who were close enough to study them never made it back alive.

"It would have been nice to study the poor thing," Rung mumbled, kneeling beside the remains of the sparkeater. His brows creased and he frowned pitifully. "What a rare opportunity that would have been."

"Yeah, well, maybe next time," Rodimus chortled. He gestured to his men. "Just... Get this thing off my ship, okay?"

Before the lifeless monster could be jettisoned, Rung quickly yanked out whatever processor the sparkeater had from its exposed, split cranium. He smuggled it back to his office without anyone noticing. His naivety had an upside: not many people suspected him of going against orders. But then again, Rodimus never said he couldn't take a few samples to study... Still, to see inside the monster, to see its inner-workings from a psychological point of view, was just too intriguing to pass up.

So Rung spent the next few days dissecting the rather simple files he managed to cull from the remains of the sparkeater's CPU. It was very primitive, but it still gave him a challenge. Definitely Cybertronian, but ancient; he once read a few scientists suspecting sparkeaters might have been the first prototypes of Cybertronians before they evolved into something more civilized as they were today, and this branch of their people evolved in different conditions to remain relatively the same.

Rung had a feeling it was more a matter of viral infection, but, well... His specialty lied in psychotherapy. Maybe these files would yield new information on the sparkeater's psyche, how it felt, if it thought about more than just survival.

By day four, Rung had gathered the data and strewn it together, copying the information to a small chip and inserting it into his private mainframe. Like a video being switched on, he hit play, and watched the final few moments of the sparkeater's thought process come to life before him.

It was remarkable and Rung was surprised. Everything appeared in order, following the usual hunting pattern of sparkeaters. It skulked in the shadows, blending into the darkness with such expert skill, it would have put any spy to shame. It watched from safe, high distances, usually, keeping to the rafters or ceiling.

The feed was a blend of static and black and white imagery; however, this was not a glitch. In fact, the sparkeater could see color, but only two sorts. First, the vibrant colors of energy fields. And then, it easily saw the spark inside; Rung quickly put together that the more pure the spark, the brighter the color. The sparkeater locked onto Shock's spark, schematics racing across the screen as it studied its contents, determining if its prey was worth the hunt. Rung jotted down the symbols; they were Cybertronian, too, but their dialect lost to time long, long ago. He'd have to brush up on his studies of foreign and forgotten languages later.

When the sparkeater struck and tackled its prey, it was almost too much for Rung to watch. He felt energon rise in his throat. It was brutal, and all the while, strategies in an unknown language were racing across the sparkeater's field of vision. It attacked fast but meticulous, quick but mindful. A professional killer. When it swallowed Shock's spark, Rung noted the energy field stats had gone up, and the static quieted. If he didn't know any better, it was as if he were looking through the eyes of just another Autobot.

Through the course of the video/memory log, Rung saw the extent of its prowess and abilities. He was fascinated, although a little discomforted at the same time. When the video winked into white noise after the monster's demise, Rung believed it to be finished. As he went to hit stop, something glitched and then, the static reappeared and slowly faded, showing a clear image. Rung blinked, drawing his hand back.

Now, he was watching the sparkeater move--outside the ship. Somewhere on land, through a wild jungle by the sounds and body-core temperature logs.

Whatever this memory this was, it was prior to the events on the _Lost Light_. A memory, perhaps, earlier on, having slipped into more recent data during its destruction. A glitch as its CPU shut down. Rung sat back and watched, even more intrigued than before. He followed the sparkeater into a large cave, where its optics lit up, sending two tunnels of ghost white light through the darkness. It crawled and grumbled and started to struggle, almost, before color picked up on its field of vision.

Off to the side, a pale yellow-green, and Rung nearly strained his head to get a better look.

Rung's spark skipped a beat as the sparkeater turned into a wide hole nestled deep in the cave, and its entire vision exploded with colors. Not the prettiest; sickly, ugly, but they were strong. Sitting in a nest made of what appeared to be debris and parts from its previous kills were two little creatures. They looked much like the sparkeater, with its twisted, grim features, gangly limbs and the long, whipping tentacles.

Rung recognized them as hatchlings, protoforms. It was hard to tell if the hatchlings had been born as they were, or snatched from their homes and infected by the sparkeater. Rung wondered if they belonged to those the sparkeater killed--in which case, that would mean the sparkeater was capable of mercy or at least had some sort of parental programming. Possibly, it was saving them for later meals. Or, well, the sparkeater had managed to conceive them itself; though it would require ancient, discontinued technology back on Cybertron (still considered bogus and blasphemous to many people this day), perhaps it was just natural for its species.

The two hatchlings turned their yellow optics to the sparkeater and immediately began chirping, excitedly grabbing hands and waving little tentacles at their creator; by blood, or surrogate, did not seem to matter. The sparkeater grumbled, and then made a series of strange noises; low rumbles that vibrated through its entire chassis; even its vision shook, and Rung widened his optics, because... This was _purring_. Immediately, the yapping youngsters fell silent and waiting, sitting close together.

The sparkeater bent forward; one of the hatchlings sat upright, until they were nearly face to face. The gagging noises the creature made nearly made Rung vomit. The hatchling then opened its mouth and a moment later, coolant, lubricant, energon and one big, fresh spark popped from the adult's mouth and into the baby's. Rung momentarily put aside his disgust to wonder how the child could eat something as big as its head; but then fangs, tiny but sharp little things, protracted from its denta lining, sunk easily into the spark and with one giant crack, bit it clean in half. Juices and shards of the spark and its soaked casing dripped from its mouth as it chewed gingerly; the sparkeater then turned to the second hatchling and hacked up another spark.

What happened next nearly made Rung fall out of his seat. Though he could not see it, the distinctive hiss of oxygen being released and the close proximity of the sound, he knew the beast's chest plates had opened. Coupled with the _squelching_ noises, he imagined mucus-like substance peeling and parting with the rank armor. He'd give anything to see inside, however disgusting it was, to see if the sparkeater actually had a spark of its own.

But then, as the hatchlings finished their meals, two tentacles extended, slowly wrapping around the carefree babies. Rung felt a rush of fear. The sparkeater lifted the hatchlings up, and proceeded to place them inside its chest cavity. Oh, God, was it going to--

Its chestplates closed with a click and readings across its field of vision--which Rung could not quite comprehend--showed two new lifeforms. Steady and relaxing. After a little thinking, it hit Rung; as the sparkeater slowly lowered itself to the ground (to lie down, he figured), powering off its optics and keeping only a few processors running (including the hatchlings' vitals), Rung realized it was putting its children down for sleep, using its own body as shelter.

The memory log clicked, turned black, and the small disk popped out of the computer. That was all that remained of the sparkeater.


End file.
